


Riding the Bull

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fisting, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Language Barrier, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Rescue, Romance, Rough Sex, Scenting, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Teratophilia, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: For the prompt, "We know from canon that Bull gets off to the concept of dragons. I'm very interested in his process, how he goes about showing these magnificent creatures the respect they're due, maybe his reaction to the process not working or being presented with the opportunity for it to become reality."NOTE: there is some mild blood/breath play in here. If that's a problem, you might want to skip this one. At the same time, there's also not a lot of it, so if it's specifically what you're looking for, this story isn't going to do much for you.(The title is the only thing I regret. It's awful and I know it, but I couldn't think of anything better.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DracoCustos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoCustos/gifts).



There are dragons in the stable.

"Boss." It comes out in a low, reverent voice Bull hardly recognizes as his own. "Boss, you have _dragons_."

Adaar gives him a sideways grin. "I knew you'd appreciate them properly. Everyone else keeps telling me I'm crazy."

"That's because you are," Bull says, not looking away from the stall in front of them. It's actually several stalls converted into one, the walls removed to create a space more than large enough for a pair of dragons to sleep, curled together in a tight coil of wings and scaled limbs. Dragons. Two of them.

"But you're the only one who says that like it's a compliment," Adaar says. She bumps him with her shoulder, urging him to step up to the door of the stall for a closer look.

He hardly needs the encouragement, not when the force of their presence is like a whirlpool, dragging him steadily closer. "Where did you find them?"

Adaar growls. It lasts barely long enough for Bull to realize the sound is coming from her, but it's so unexpected that he finally turns to look at her.

"Red templars," she says curtly. "Had them in a cage in one of the camps we raided."

"In a cage?" he asks, surprised.

"In a cage." Adaar's mouth is pressed into a tight line, and her hands on the stall door grip hard enough to drive her claws into the wood. "Based on some of the papers we found in the camp, maybe for breeding."

Bull looks back at the dragons, both still asleep. Hard to tell how old they are. If they were standing on all four feet, their shoulders might reach the middle of his chest, but they're considerably longer than he is tall. Add in the long, serpentine necks, and they would tower over him if they stood up on their hind feet.

Despite that, they're neither of them as large as the mature dragons Bull has seen, and if one of them is female, she has to be very young. The red templars would have been waiting a while.

But when he says as much to Adaar, she shakes her head. "Different kind of dragon than we're used to, Fréderic says. Smaller, even when they're fully grown." She flexes her fingers, deliberately letting go of the stall door. "Smarter, too. I thought we were going to have to keep them caged so they didn't attack anyone, but all they've done is snap at us."

"They watched you kill all those red templars," Bull says, only half joking. "So they knew you were a friend."

"I think so," Adaar says. When Bull raises his eyebrows at her, she shrugs one shoulder. "They didn't try to bite or claw me even before we fed them, and the red templars treated them pretty badly. I would have understood if they wouldn't let anyone close, but they let us load them up in wagons and bring them all the way back here."

"Wagons?"

"Neither of them can fly," Adaar says, "not after the way the red templars treated them. They can barely walk."

Bull looks back at the dragons, and now that some of the shock has worn off, he can see the signs of rough treatment. Both dragons are too thin, their ribs showing starkly under their skin, and one of them wheezes on every breath, a sound that makes Bull want to clear his own throat in sympathy. Their scales are a dull greyish brown, not too different from the stable's stone walls, with none of the shine Bull is used to seeing on dragons. Some of the scales are even broken, small patches of unprotected skin visible through the gaps.

"I wanted to give them elfroot," Adaar says, "but Fréderic didn't seem to think that was a good idea. Something about them being magic, and elfroot being magic, and mumble, mumble, mumble." She waves a hand to replace all the things Fréderic said that she can't remember. "I stopped listening when he started getting out the reference books. And I mean, he said we could try, that he didn't _know_ it would hurt them, but..."

She trails off, and Bull silently fills in the rest: it's a big risk, especially when they can start with non-magical healing. Regular meals may be all it takes to get both dragons back to normal.

"So no elfroot," Bull says. "No help from the mages then, either?"

"Nope," she says, "and that's assuming a mage could even get close enough for that kind of spell. Nobody's been bitten yet, but it's pretty clear they don't want anyone getting close."

The wheezing from inside the stall is interrupted by a snort, and one of the dragons raises its head abruptly. It looks around, eyes darting left and right before finding Adaar. The dragon doesn't exactly relax, but it loses the quivering, almost panicked tension of a moment ago.

"Awww, Boss," Bull says, unable to resist teasing, "it likes you."

Adaar makes a dismissive noise, looking both pleased and embarrassed. "They dislike me less than they dislike other people. Not sure that's the same." Before he can respond, she says, "Anyway, I knew you'd appreciate them properly, but I also wanted to ask you for a favor."

"If it's got anything to do with dragons, you know I'm in."

She grins at him. "Good thing for me. I'm headed back out tomorrow, and I'll be gone a while. I'm hoping you can keep an eye on them for me, maybe see if you can persuade them to let us get a little closer. I want to take care of them until they can fly, and that could be a while."

Bull looks back at the dragons. The other one is awake now, even if it hasn't raised its head, and both are staring at him and Adaar with wary eyes. Smoke has started to trickle from their nostrils in a clear threat.

Dragons. _Dragons._

"You couldn't keep me away if you tried," he assures her.

###

The next day, he makes himself wait until after the Chargers' morning practice, mostly to prove that he can. Then, having demonstrated that he could resist if he wanted to, he heads straight for the stables, still sweaty from practice.

Both dragons are sitting up this time, and they turn to look at him when he props his elbows on the stall door. There's a large pile of meat in front of them, but they ignore it in favor of watching him.

"Go on," he says after a while, "eat."

One of them gives him a blink so slow he can watch both sets of eyelids move, covering and revealing golden eyes. Those eyes are just as wary as yesterday, and when the dragons do at last return to their meal, they turn so they can eat and watch him at the same time.

They've made it through most of their meal when their heads come up again, this time staring past Bull. He turns to follow their gazes and finds Fréderic of Serault striding toward him, several large books under one arm.

"Ah, the Iron Bull," Fréderic says, smiling. "I thought I might find you here. Have you set up a cot yet?"

"Nah," Bull says, "I'll just sleep in there with them."

"If they'll even let you in the stall, you'll be doing better than the rest of us." He steps up beside Bull and looks at the dragons with what Bull feels is almost the appropriate level of awed delight. "Still, even from here they're amazing, aren't they?"

"Amazing," Bull echoes. He looks back at the dragons just as the slightly smaller one turns its head to the side, curving its neck in a sinuous arch. It's showing off for them, Bull realizes after a startled moment, exactly as if it knows they're admiring it.

"Has anyone been able to get close?" Bull asks.

"Not since they got to Skyhold," Fréderic says regretfully. "They tolerated us being closer on the way here, but once we got them settled, no one's been allowed in."

Bull doesn't bother to hide his disappointment. "No one?"

"Not yet, anyway." Fréderic gives him an encouraging smile. "Maybe you can win them over."

"How?" Bull asks, mostly to himself.

Fréderic answers anyway. "Food, perhaps, or kind words. Time spent in their company, so they become accustomed to your presence." He turns one hand palm up, then fumbles to catch his books before they slip out of his other hand. A little breathless, he adds, "The same way one wins over any wild animal, really."

The dragon that was showing off for them a moment ago turns to hiss at Fréderic, and Bull doesn't think he's imagining the angry indignation that fills every line of its body. It looks about how Bull would feel if someone were to describe him as a wild animal.

Smarter than other dragons, Adaar said. How much smarter? Certainly mabari are smart enough to tell when they're being talked about. Could these dragons be as smart as that?

Now intrigued on an entirely new level, Bull leans more heavily on the stall door until he leans too far and gets a sharp hiss. It's more of a wheeze than a real hiss, but Bull takes the warning for what it is and steps back. The larger dragon takes a step toward him and hisses again, positioning itself between Bull and the smaller dragon.

"She's quite protective," Fréderic says. "Has been the whole time. I sometimes suspect the male would let us closer if she weren't telling him not to."

"She?" Bull asks, looking back at the larger dragon. "How can you tell?"

The larger dragon--the female--makes an irate noise, a growling hiss that complements the narrow-eyed glower she's aiming in his direction.

"The size of the tail, primarily," Fréderic says. He juggles his books around until he can extract one from the pile without losing control of the whole stack. "Here. If you're interested, this is my best source on their species."

Apparently oblivious to the dirty look the dragon is now directing at both of them, Fréderic holds out the book. Bull takes it and tries not to laugh at the dragon's indignation as he turns the book's spine toward the light streaming in through the stable doors. The gold letters are worn away in spots, but with a little squinting, he can make out the title: _De Dracones_.

"Thank you," he says with real feeling.

"Of course, of course," Fréderic says with another wave that threatens to send his books tumbling to the stable floor. "I've read it several times, so feel free to keep it as long as you need."

Bull flips it open to the title page and spends a long moment admiring the frontispiece, which is a painstakingly rendered picture of a dragon rearing up on its hind legs, wings spread wide and forelegs ready to lash out. It's painted in several shades of brown that look about a hundred times healthier than the dragons currently watching him, each painted scale accented with gold leaf that makes the brown actually look pretty.

Fréderic clears his throat gently, and Bull snaps the book closed, embarrassed to have lost track of himself--and the conversation--so completely. "Sorry."

"No offense taken," Fréderic says. "I understand the feeling, so I believe I'll leave you to it." He doesn't try to wave again, just gives Bull a nod before retreating and a cheerful, "Enjoy!"

Now there's an order Bull will have no trouble obeying.

A quick look around finds a bench he can drag over, and he makes himself comfortable with his back against the door of the stall opposite the dragons' and the book open in his lap. It puts him in plain sight without being in their space; if they're at least as smart as mabari, then it might worry them if he sat where they couldn't keep an eye on him. The last thing he wants is to make them even more nervous than they already are.

At first, Bull flips idly through the book, looking at the pictures and diagrams rather than reading the text. There are plenty of detailed drawings like the frontispiece, but right now Bull is more interested in the close-ups. He knows what dragons look like while flying or fighting; what he wants now are all the little details it's impossible to appreciate when he's busy trying not to die. He wants to know what healthy scales look like and what shape their claws should be, so he can watch for the right signs as both dragons recover.

He's nearly to the back of the book when he finds the section on mating. It's not a surprise, exactly--any book Fréderic called his best source was guaranteed to cover the subject--but what is surprising is the amount of detail. The same meticulous research that went into the sketches of dragon scales also went into the sketches of other parts of their anatomy.

The largest diagram in the chapter is of an erect cock, and it takes up an entire page. Bull has occasionally seen mating snakes and lizards, seen the spikes and hooks that decorate their cocks, and it turns out that a dragon's cock looks very similar. Uneven rows of spikes cover it from base to head, making the whole thing look more like a weapon than a cock, and nothing at all like anything Bull would want fucking him, never mind certain adolescent fantasies he still thinks of occasionally.

The cock in the picture also appears to be dripping.

Curious, Bull skims the text on the facing page for some explanation and finds enough detail that he has to wonder exactly how dedicated the writer was to their research. Wonder, and maybe envy.

However the writer obtained their information, they share it in exquisite detail. The spikes are apparently softer than they look, less like his horns and more like the tip of his nose or the points of his ears. It adds an interesting dimension to those old fantasies, as does the fact that dragons have two cocks rather than just one, even if both are hidden beneath their scales most of the time. The dripping liquid in the picture is a slippery substance that always covers both cocks, and that's such an intriguing image that Bull stares blindly at the page for an embarrassingly long time.

Someone walks by at the far end of the stable, and Bull quickly turns back to the title page. Humans react badly to the oddest things, and the last thing he wants is for Fréderic's book to be damaged or destroyed by some overzealous Andrastian. Besides, he's supposed to be concentrating on the pair of dragons currently watching him from across the stable, and he can't do that if he's distracted by his own hard cock.

He spends most of the afternoon sitting on the bench, reading and trying to be as non-threatening as possible. It's not exactly a hardship to sit and read about dragons with a pair of real dragons in front of him, and eventually, the real dragons are paying as little attention to him as the ones in the book. Even when he stands to leave, they look at him without hissing, and when he comes back the next morning, their eyes are more curious than wary as they watch him.

"Good morning," Bull says, propping his forearms on the door of their stall.

To his delight, the male gives a little trilling whistle that sounds like a reply, even if he doesn't bother to lift his head from where it rests on his crossed forelegs. The female gives both of them a narrow-eyed look, her tail lashing at the straw that covers the floor of the stall.

"You've got to be bored," Bull says. "I'd be hissing at everyone, too, if I was stuck in there with nothing to do."

The male just sighs, but the female's tail lashes harder until she pins it irritably with a front claw.

"There's not much I can do to help," Bull says, "but if you want, I can read to you." He holds up _De Dracones_ for their inspection, the book open to the title page and frontispiece.

The female hisses very softly and exchanges a look with the male. Bull waits patiently, disinclined to rush them, and as he waits, it occurs to him how strange this conversation is. Because it is a conversation. With a dragon.

He swallows back the laugh that tries to bubble up, afraid of startling them, but it doesn't stop him from basking in the warm glow of that particular impossibility. This whole scene could have been lifted right out of his childhood dreams, not to mention those adolescent fantasies that _De Dracones_ stirred up from the depths of his memory.

In the stall in front of him, the dragons have apparently decided to accept his offer: the male closes his eyes and the female puts her head down on her crossed forelegs in a pose very similar to the male's. Unlike the male, she keeps her eyes open and on Bull. It's not the most enthusiastic agreement Bull's ever gotten, but he'll take it. Even grudging agreement is better than hostility.

He opens the book and starts at the beginning, careful to turn the book around to show them any pictures he finds. Standing with his elbows propped on the stall door isn't the most comfortable position, but it lets him watch both dragons as he reads, so he ignores the protests from his back and his bad knee in favor of a clear line of sight.

As he reads the description of their natural habitat for the second time in two days, he can't help but compare it to their current home. The rocky desert and near-desert of the Wastes is nothing like a stable in the middle of the Frostbacks. Given how little warning anyone had, the enlarged stall is a lot better than it could be, but it's nowhere near perfect.

He leaves that thought to stew in the back of his head and concentrates on the dragons in front of him, pleased by the way they both relax the longer he reads. The male appears to be entirely asleep after ten pages, and the female's tail stops trying to escape her claws so it can lash again. Though the tip of it does twitch occasionally, a little flick that always seems to coincide with the parts of _De Dracones_ that Bull doesn't quite believe.

The fourth time it happens, Bull lowers the book so he can see her. "That part's wrong?"

Her head comes up as if she's startled, her eyes wide before she blinks them back to normal.

"Or maybe I misunderstood you," he says, watching her closely. "And really the book is fine."

She snorts, a bit of smoke curling up from her nostrils, and Bull grins.

"Should I keep notes?" he asks. "I can write something better, and you can check it for me."

Her eyes have narrowed again, but she doesn't look hostile. If anything, she looks like she's trying to decide if he's mocking her.

"You'd be the best source I know," he says, hoping his sincerity shows through. "And a qunari is probably the best person to write a book on dragons, so between the two of us, it'd be perfect."

She makes a little noise, half hum and half whistle, rising at the end like a question.

"Supposedly the qunari have a little dragon blood in us," Bull says. "Though I don't know if that's actually true." He marks his place in the book with one finger and straightens up to stretch out his back, giving that story some actual thought for the first time. As an adolescent, he'd thought about it a lot, if jerking off to fantasies counted, but he wasn't overly concerned with practicalities then. Now...

"I wonder how that could have worked," he says, musing aloud. "It's not like we're exactly compatible. Not nearly as close as humans and elves."

If he'd had any doubts about their compatibility, that picture in _De Dracones_ would have destroyed them.

More of those adolescent fantasies are drifting up from the depths of his memory, and his cock starts to take a definite interest. He can almost feel the heat and weight of a dragon on top of him, pushing into him, claws and teeth leaving marks on his arms and neck and back.

Bull closes the door on those thoughts quickly, but not before the female dragon raises her head higher and tastes the air with a long, forked tongue. Shit. Can she smell him? And if she can, does she have enough experience with qunari to know what any changes in his scent might mean?

Time for a distraction.

"We never really got an introduction, did we?" he says. "I'm the Iron Bull."

She sniffs the air this time, and he suspects he hasn't fooled her. Still, she doesn't do anything but look at him.

Bull isn't sure what he was expecting, since it's not as if she can actually tell him her name. Do dragons even have names? And if they do, is it anything a human could pronounce? Both are questions that _De Dracones_ completely failed to address.

"Is it all right if I gave you both names?" he asks. "You can pick one you like."

She gives him a long, slow blink. Since it doesn't seem hostile, he decides to take that as permission.

He tries the obvious one first. "How about Ataashi? It means 'dragon' in Qunlat."

Her expression is so deeply unimpressed he can practically hear his tamassran ask, "Is that really the best you can do?"

"Too easy?"

Her answering snort is definitely a yes this time.

"I didn't know you were going to be picky," he teases. "But all right, let me think."

She unfolds herself and stretches like a cat, front legs and then back legs. "Take as long as you need," she seems to be saying. "It's all the same to me."

When she finishes stretching and sits, tail wrapped around her feet and wings tucked close, Bull notices that somewhere in all that, she moved closer to him.

"Kadan would be perfect," he muses, trying not to get too excited by that small sign of trust, "except I can't call you both the same thing." At her inquisitive noise, he says, "It doesn't really have a good translation, but I guess 'my heart' is close enough."

She cocks her head to the side and studies him. Her eyes are a deep gold, the slit pupils opening wider the longer she looks at him. When he's in danger of losing himself in that gaze, he looks away and shrugs. "It's not like that. We use it for a lot of people. Friends, too."

He can't interpret the sound she makes in reply, though it sounds like a question. Probably one he wouldn't want to answer even if he could understand it, so he thinks fast, looking around for anything that might help him.

As he looks, his gaze falls on a convenient puff of smoke hanging in a sunbeam. "Ash," he says, pleased with himself for the way the name works in more than one language. "That's a good name. It means 'to seek' in Qunlat."

She makes a disinterested noise.

"What about you?" Bull asks the male, who sighs and settles more comfortably into the straw. That looks like a no.

Before he can try to convince either of them how brilliant the name is, someone calls out from his left, "Well, that's quite an improvement!"

The female dragon spins around so fast she nearly falls over, clawed feet scrabbling for purchase in the straw. Her head draws back like a snake about to strike, her wings already spreading in a threat display that would be more effective if she wasn't still so weak that her wingtips cut wavering circles in the air as she fights to hold the position.

"Or maybe not," Fréderic says. His voice is quieter, but he sounds more excited than intimidated.

Bull ignores him and says softly to the dragon, "Hey, it's all right. You've seen him before, you know him."

Her wings relax slightly, but her head is still poised to attack.

"He's the only reason we know anything about you," Bull says. "What you eat, what will help you heal. The last thing he wants is to hurt you."

He thinks for a moment that she's not listening, then her head eases forward and her wings fold themselves awkwardly away. She's still wary, her eyes fixed on Fréderic, but she no longer looks like she's waiting for an opportunity to bite him.

"My apologies," Fréderic says to the dragon. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Bull has to give him credit, he doesn't sound in the least bit self-conscious talking to someone most people consider no smarter than an animal. Bull is developing his own ideas about the dragons' intelligence, and "as smart as a mabari" is beginning to seem like a gross understatement.

The dragon huffs out a slightly smoky breath that could mean anything, except that she also sits back down. The pose isn't exactly relaxed, but it's also clearly non-threatening.

There's an awkward silence before Fréderic says, "So what were you discussing before I interrupted?"

"Names," Bull says. "We should call them something besides 'dragon.'" And just like that, it comes to him. "Kata. What about Kata?"

She turns her head so she can see him without losing sight of Fréderic.

"It means 'death,'" he says.

Her eyes close halfway, pupils widening a little, and her front claws knead at the straw.

Pleased with himself, Bull looks past her at the male dragon, who didn't bother to get up during any of the earlier excitement. From watching both dragons over the last two days, Bull suspects the problem is less "can't" and more "can't be bothered."

"And you," Bull says, shaking his head. "I should call you Lazy."

The dragon opens one eye just long enough to give him a look of total unconcern. The female dragon, on the other hand, gives a strange rumbling growl.

So that's what it sounds like when a dragon laughs.

"But I won't," Bull says to the male dragon. "How about Taashath? It means 'calm,' and if you got any calmer, I'd worry you were dead."

The female dragon--Kata--laughs again. The male actually lifts his head this time and studies Bull's face intently. His eyes are darker than Kata's, nearly amber, but it's just as unnerving to bear the full weight of that gaze.

"Taashath," Bull says again.

The dragon gets to his feet, stretching every limb thoroughly before crossing the stall. To Bull's amazement, the dragon head-butts him gently, and when Bull scratches tentatively between the horns conveniently positioned for exactly that, he gets a long, contented sigh.

So that would be a yes.


	2. Chapter 2

Bull wakes up the next morning with his cock half hard and his thoughts full of fantasies of dragons. Fucking dragons, being fucked by them, his half-asleep brain sometimes blending both together. He can taste smoke, can feel it burning in the back of his throat, and his hand slides under the sheet to grip his cock.

He drifts there for a while, floating between mostly awake and mostly asleep, enjoying the dreams even when they're implausible. Each one makes his cock harder, until it's so hard it finally chases away any trace of sleepiness, and he rolls over to reach under the bed for the chest he keeps there. It doesn't hold all of his toys, but it has the ones he's most likely to want on short notice. That includes several vials of oil and an array of cocks in metal, wood, and leather.

The one he picks now is wood, covered in rows of small bumps from its rounded tip all the way down to its flared base. It's silky smooth and slightly cooler than his hand, though it warms quickly as he strokes oil along its length. The bumps in the wood slide against his palm and fingers, a promise of what it will feel like inside him. His own cock is leaking at the tip, as if he's stroking himself and not a carved piece of wood.

As soon as the wood is slick enough, Bull stretches out on his back. One hand holding himself open, he guides the cock back behind his balls, the oiled tip sliding easily over his skin. It slides between the cheeks of his ass, back and forth over his hole until he gets the right angle to push it in.

Under other circumstances, he might take it slow, open himself up with fingers or a smaller cock first, but he's been teasing himself for a while now, and what he wants is the feeling of being fucked. He shoves the rest of the cock in fast, gasping as it burns, though it isn't the thickest he owns. Its size has nothing to do with why he picked it: it's the texture he wants, the bumps along its length tugging at his hole as the cock slides in to the base.

Of all his toys, this is the one that looks most like the picture in _De Dracones_ , and he imagines it's a dragon pushing into him, its body covering his. His partners are rarely the same height as he is, and never taller, but a dragon would tower over him. Even a small dragon would cover him completely, weight squeezing the air from his lungs, scales scraping over his skin. Compared to a dragon, Bull would be small and breakable, two things he hasn't been in decades.

He closes his eye and begins to fuck himself with the wooden cock, changing the angle until the bumps along the shaft pull sharply against his hole on every thrust. As he fucks himself, he dredges up all the old adolescent fantasies of dragons, of hot breath and sharp teeth and a thick cock shaped nothing like his own. He made up a hundred different stories about dragons, and every one of them ended up in the same place eventually, with a dragon above him, cock driving into him in rough thrusts.

It doesn't take him very long to finish.

After he's stopped shaking and started breathing normally, he cleans up and heads for the library, whistling cheerfully to himself. He makes himself stop whistling after several of the library's occupants give him dirty looks, but it doesn't dampen his good mood. A quick search nets him a handful of books more interesting than _De Dracones_ , if not nearly as educational. Since education isn't his goal right now, Bull slides them into a bag without a second thought.

In the stables, he steps up to the stall door and raises the bag high enough for Kata and Taashath to see it. Both of them are watching him, more relaxed than he's yet seen them, and he smiles.

"I brought you a present," he says. "So you don't have to be irritated by everything _De Dracones_ gets wrong." And so he doesn't have to read the whole thing out loud, including the chapter on mating. That would be a little too weird, even by his standards.

Taashath makes the inquisitive whistle Bull is learning to recognize, so he reaches into the bag and pulls out the first book that comes to hand. "I have a bunch in here," he says as he shows it to them, "and I can just pick one if you want."

Kata's eyes narrow a little, as if she can hear the "but" coming.

"But if you'll let me in there," Bulls says, "I'll spread them out so you can pick." He waits for both of them to finish hissing before he tries to go on. "I won't go any further than the door, and I'll leave as soon as you've picked. I promise."

He waits again. No hiss.

He puts his hand on the stall's door latch. No hiss.

He opens the door. Pauses. Steps inside.

Still no hiss.

Pleased, Bull crouches down to lay out the books, careful to keep them on top of the bag and out of the muddy straw on the ground. As he sets them out, he says the title and a brief description for the dragons' benefit, and as soon as he's laid out the last one, he retreats from the stall immediately.

Taashath slithers forward, belly low to the ground and one eye on Bull, ignoring Kata's sharp hiss. She snaps her teeth at him when he doesn't respond, then sighs hugely and follows, her posture proclaiming, "If you're going to be stupid, I guess I'll have to come along to keep you from getting killed."

For all that, she gives the books almost as much attention as Taashath does. Their heads tilt back and forth as they consider, and once, Taashath turns to put his cheek against Kata's, exactly like he's whispering in her ear. Bull can't hear anything, but Kata must, because she stretches out her neck to poke one of the books with her nose.

Both dragons immediately retreat to the far side of the stall, which Bull takes as permission to come in and retrieve all of the books. When he sees the one they've chosen, he grins. _Hard in Hightown_. "Cassandra would approve."

They give him matching quizzical looks.

"I'll introduce you sometime," he promises.

###

He reads until he's hoarse, and the only thing that pries him out of the stables before dark is the plan that's finally come together in his head. The first part of that plan requires the right location, and he has to be able to see to know whether he's found it.

It takes him the rest of that afternoon and part of the following morning, but eventually he settles on an unused tower near the stables. From there, he tracks down Fréderic to check his plan and Josephine to help him find the supplies he needs. Adaar must have said something before she left, because other than a brief sigh, Josephine doesn't mention the cost.

Then all he can do is wait for those supplies to arrive. Two weeks has never seemed like such a long time, but at least it gives him more time to win over Kata and Taashath. He spends every spare moment in the stables reading to them, and by the time his plan is finished, they've allowed him to drag the bench into their stall and read to them from there. Occasionally Taashath will lie down with his head on Bull's foot, and even more occasionally, Kata will sit beside the bench. Bull counts every time as a win.

He needs every bit of the trust he's gained to get them out of their stall and across the short distance to the tower he chose. Kata hisses at every shadow, and Taashath's wings are half extended before they've even left the stable. Bull doesn't know if he's trying to make himself look bigger and so more threatening, or if he wants to be ready to fly away if any red templars suddenly appear.

Whatever the reason, as soon as he sees what's in the tower, his wings fold in and he stops dead in the doorway, so suddenly Kata nearly steps on his tail. There's a brief spate of hissing and shoving, then both dragons are inside the tower, leaving the doorway clear for Bull.

He doesn't try to go further, content to watch from there as the dragons try to burrow into the sand-filled pit that stretches across most of the tower's floor. Even without stepping over the threshold, Bull can feel how much warmer it is inside, the spell-heated stones almost glowing with stored magic. It's still not as warm as the desert, but it's a lot closer than the stables were.

Once the sand has been adequately explored, Kata goes off to investigate the ramp that leads up to the tower's roof. Taashath stays stretched out on the sand for a while, rolling like a cat in a sunbeam until he flips over onto his feet so suddenly Bull steps back in alarm, looking around for the threat he's somehow missed.

There's no threat to be seen, though, just Taashath easing his way across the sand, eyes on Bull. With only two weeks' practice at reading their expressions, Bull isn't sure if he's being threatened; Taashath isn't exactly stalking, but he's also a lot more intent than usual.

"It's all yours," he says, gesturing at the tower. "Don't worry, I'm not going to come in."

Taashath pauses in mid-step, his tail sweeping lazily across the sand as he thinks. When he starts forward again, he's moving very slowly, setting down each foot before lifting the next one.

Bull recognizes the body language now and almost laughs. Those are the same slow, careful movements he uses on them when he's trying to be especially reassuring.

"Everything's fine," Taashath seems to be saying. "Trust me."

So Bull does, holding his ground even when Taashath stretches out his neck and takes Bull's forearm in his mouth. Sharp teeth press against the skin without hurting as Taashath pulls him toward the tower door. Bull goes with that gentle pressure, lets Taashath pull him nearly to the center of the tower. Kata watches from the bottom of the ramp, but she makes no move to stop either of them.

"So I guess that's a thank you?" Bull asks.

Taashath releases his arm to head-butt his chest, and Bull smiles. "Then you're welcome."

Kata laughs her growling, rumbling laugh and rolls off the ramp into the sand, thrashing around and sending sand over both Bull and Taashath. Taashath hisses and retaliates with a swipe of his tail, tossing sand back at her.

"I'm going to go get the book," Bull says hastily, before he gets any more sand in his boots. "I'll be right back."

He gets a flick of Kata's tail in acknowledgement, right before she pounces on Taashath. Bull escapes while he can and doesn't hurry, wanting to give them plenty of time to finish throwing sand around before he risks his good eye.

They're both stretched out on the ground when he gets back, sides heaving and mouths open as they pant for air. Kata's breaths whistle alarmingly, and Bull gives her a concerned look.

"Maybe take it easy next time," he says.

She gives him exactly the look he would give anyone telling him that. And then fuck him if she doesn't cross her eyes at him. It's so unexpected he laughs. "Right, I got it, I'll shut up."

Taashath nips at her flank and gets swatted with her tail for his trouble. Bull can fill in both sides of that conversation, too, but before he can say anything, Kata gets up and crosses the tower to wind around him like a large cat. She rubs her chin on his shoulder so hard she nearly knocks him over, and when he disentangles himself long enough to sit down against one wall, she sprawls out beside him as soon as he's settled, her head resting alongside his calf.

With a chirp, Taashath slithers across the sand to join them, coming right up beside Bull to sniff at his face and horns. Seated on the ground with a dragon looming over him, Bull's heartbeat triples, his body caught between fear and the beginnings of a reaver's battle-madness, all of it tinged with arousal.

Taashath sneezes, blowing smoky air into Bull's face, and the coughing fit that follows lets him curl forward over his lap. If they can smell his arousal, fine. He's not going to make it any more obvious than he has to.

By the time the coughing subsides, both dragons are stretched out on the ground, one on either side of him. Bull looks back and forth between them for a long time, amazed and still a little aroused, until Kata nudges the book with her nose in an unsubtle reminder.

"Sorry," Bull says, amused. "Forgot what I was supposed to be doing."

He opens the book to where they left off and starts to read, only half aware of the words. It's hard to concentrate on anything except the dragons on either side of him, and it doesn't get any easier when Taashath rearranges himself so his head is in Bull's lap. Though his head weighs more than Bull expected, putting his leg to sleep after only a few pages. How can something that's supposed to fly be so heavy?

Bull stays like that until it's too dark to read and his stomach is threatening a mutiny. Kata raises her head when he closes the book, but Taashath doesn't move, not even when Bull taps him lightly on one horn.

"Come on," Bull murmurs, "I need to get up."

One of Taashath's eyes slits open the tiniest bit, then closes again.

"I know you're awake," Bull says. "And I know you understand me."

Taashath doesn't so much as twitch.

Bull jiggles his right leg--the one that hasn't gone numb--and when that gets no response, he says, "All right, don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he shoves Taashath's head from his lap as gently as he can manage, wincing a little as it thumps to the sand. Kata hisses, but a quick glance shows that she's hissing at Taashath, who ignores both of them in favor of going back to sleep.

"Right," Bull says. He exchanges a look of fond annoyance with Kata, then realizes what he's doing at apparently the same time as she does. She shakes herself like a dog coming out of the water, and Bull can't help it: he laughs.

He smothers it almost immediately, in case she takes offense. At first he thinks he wasn't fast enough, because she's now looking at him with an expression he can't read, but before he can apologize, she stretches out her neck and noses at his cheek very lightly.

Leaving is the last thing Bull wants to do right now, and he takes a moment to imagine staying right here. Sand is creeping into his trousers, and his left leg feels like it's being stabbed with hundreds of tiny icicles, and his ass is entirely numb. He'd still rather stay than go anywhere else, but that's not really an option.

Taashath settles himself more comfortably in the sand, and somehow, his head just happens to end up back in Bull's lap.

Laughing, Bull shoves it back out. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, a reminder to himself as much as a promise to them. "You should know by now how hard it is to get rid of me."

###

Kata and Taashath's recovery is slow but steady. Their sides fill out until Bull can no longer count their ribs, and while they remain slender, they're no longer skeletal. He's more worried about how slowly they regain their strength, their wings unable to carry them even after the wheezing has passed and their lungs are clear. Still, their eyes are always bright and alert now, and they become less skittish around people, though Fréderic is the only one they seem to genuinely like.

Other than Bull, of course, and it's clear right from the beginning that however much they like Fréderic, they'll choose Bull over him with hesitation. It's not that they rush to Bull as soon as he appears, or that they ignore Fréderic if Bull is there. It's more that they flop down beside Bull--or half on top of him--where they sit next to Fréderic. They'll let Fréderic come close, even touch them if he asks permission first, but they seek out Bull's touch: shove their heads under his hand or prop their chins on his knee while he reads to them or just curl up with their flanks against his leg.

Which is how Bull winds up helping when they begin to shed. Like the lizards in Seheron, they shed their skin in patches, scratching with their claws and rubbing against any rough surface they can find to scrape off the old scales. The sand helps with that, but clearly not enough, if their bad temper is anything to go by. They go back to snapping at anyone who comes close, including Fréderic, and even Bull gets an occasional hiss.

When he was a child, Bull once got a sunburn over his entire back, from horns to heels. He'd been trying to spy on the tamassrans rather than doing his chores, and so his tama had punished him by letting the burn heal on its own. The fever heat of it had been bad enough, but the itching had nearly driven him to beg her for any punishment except this.

"So I understand," Bull says to Taashath as he rubs a handful of oily sand along the dragon's spine. "But you can't snap at people just for walking by. It's not right, and just because they think you don't know better is no excuse."

Taashath gives him a sulky look from the corner of one eye. He's stretched out on the sand, his neck extended and wings partly unfurled, the absolute picture of draconic pathos.

"It's not right," Bull says firmly. "So you can stop looking at me like that."

A wisp of smoke rises from Taashath's nostrils, and against the far wall, Kata hisses, the breathy hiss that sounds so odd coming from someone so large. Neither of them is happy with him right now, but since they aren't happy with the world in general, he doesn't take it personally.

"My tama would have made me apologize," he says, which gets him another hiss, this time from both of them.

He makes a disapproving noise but lets the subject drop. "There you go," he says, rinsing the sand from his hands in the bucket of water he's kept for the purpose. "Feel any better?"

Given the mood Taashath is in, Bull doesn't honestly expect an answer, so it takes him by surprise when a huge head bumps gently against his shoulder. In the middle of wiping water and oil off his hands, Bull nearly drops the rag he was using. He looks up to find Taashath looking even more pathetic than before, with none of the sulkiness.

"Hey," Bull says, tossing the rag over the lip of the bucket so he can cradle Taashath's head between his hands. "It's all right, I'm not mad."

Taashath leans into the touch, his nose pushing against Bull's chest until Bull leans down to press their foreheads together. "It's all right. I know this is a lot to deal with on top of everything else." Magical healing has spared Bull from dealing with it at quite this level, but he understands the frustration and fear of not being in control of his own body. Neither Taashath nor Kata was fully recovered from the red templars' abuse before this started, and now they have one more thing making them uncomfortable.

"It'll be better soon," Bull says. He rubs his hand over the back of Taashath's head, stroking in the direction of the scales. "And then maybe we should start spending a little more time outside this room. Help you get your strength back, now you're doing better."

At first, Bull thinks the rumbling purr is in response to his words, but Taashath doesn't raise his head to look at Bull the way he normally would. Instead, he pushes his head back against Bull's hand, encouraging Bull to rub harder. So Bull does, dragging his hand up and down hard enough to scrape his own skin. It makes his palm sting pleasantly, sensitized skin tingling from the heat of Taashath's body.

Behind him, another purr starts up, closer than Bull expected. It's all the warning he gets before something heavy rubs over the back of his head, much the way he's rubbing the back of Taashath's. Kata's chin, he realizes after a moment, rubbing back and forth between his horns, her purr loud in his ears from such close range.

Pressed between them as he is, their combined purr vibrates through his chest, and it isn't just the heat of their bodies that's making Bull too warm. One of Kata's front feet is up on his shoulder, either to hold him in place or to help her keep her balance, and her claws dig into his skin as she flexes them. It barely qualifies as painful--she's always careful of him--but it holds the possibility of true pain, of his blood on her claws and on his skin. If she were to dig in right now, Bull's blood might even drip onto Taashath's head, run down his horns and along the crest of his spine, red blood against glistening golden scales.

And shit, Bull is getting hard. He needs to think about anything except Taashath's breath on his chest and Kata's weight bearing down on him-

Training exercises. What kind of exercise will he run the Chargers through tomorrow morning? They haven't done any sort of group drills lately, which makes it long past time. Or maybe some practice fighting on rough terrain. The area around Skyhold certainly has more than enough of that.

The purring fades to nothing, and while Bull misses it, he's also relieved. It's no more appropriate for him to get hard in this situation than it would be if Adaar was hugging him. He's never had a problem understanding the difference between sexual advances and simple affection, and he needs to pay special attention to that distinction with Kata and Taashath. Just because he keeps thinking about more doesn't mean they are.

Kata releases him and drops back to the ground as Taashath raises his head with a quizzical look, tongue tasting the air.

"I'm going to go clean up," Bull says hastily, bending to pick up the bucket and rag. "I'll be back in a bit, all right?"

He doesn't know which of them makes the odd little whistle, but he doesn't stop to look. Instead, he ditches the bucket and rag as soon as possible and heads straight back to his room. When he gets there, he doesn't bother getting out anything from his collection the way he usually does, just jerks himself off hard and rough while remembering the smell of smoke and oil and sand.

It doesn't take him long to come, but for once that doesn't do anything to help him refocus his thoughts. He's still aroused despite the softening of his cock, restless and wanting more. That hasn't changed by the time he's cleaned up and shaken all the sand from his clothes, so he abandons the effort at that point, selects the largest cock in his collection, and jerks himself off again. Slower this time, fucking himself against the mattress to drive the cock deep, drawing everything out. His teeth are gritted and his muscles are trembling with effort before he lets himself come a second time.

The restlessness lingers, but at least he's now physically tired enough to ignore it. Which means he's tired enough that his body probably wouldn't betray him again if he spent the rest of the afternoon with Kata and Taashath, but he avoids them anyway. Instead, he takes his axe down to the practice ring and runs a few of the Inquisition's soldiers around in circles until they're wheezing, then treats them all to drinks in the Herald's Rest. It makes for a good day overall, and by the time he wakes up the next morning, he has his internal balance back.

Kata and Taashath both seem a little standoffish when he first shows up, but the mood passes quickly. He's barely read two pages of the current book before Taashath is curled up behind him as a backrest, and Kata lies down beside him only a page later. She watches him more than usual, though, her golden eyes unreadable.

She's still watching him when someone knocks on the tower door with a sharp rat-a-tat- _tat_ that startles all three of them. Before they can recover, the door swings open, and Adaar pokes her head in without stepping over the threshold.

A wide smile breaks over her face when she sees them, and it pulls an involuntary answering smile from Bull. "Hey, Boss. How long have you been back?"

"Just long enough to track you down," she says. "Fréderic pointed me in the right direction, or I'd be very confused right now."

"They're more comfortable like this," Bull says, only now aware that he commandeered one of Skyhold's towers without so much as a nod toward asking permission from the castle's nominal owner.

But Adaar is already waving that away. "Oh, of course. I'm glad you thought of it, this has to be much closer to home." She looks back and forth between Kata and Taashath, smiling tentatively at them. "I hope so, anyway?"

Kata snorts a tiny cloud of grey smoke and paws at the sand, pulling it in closer to herself like she's hoarding it.

"I'll take that as a yes," Adaar says. "I'm glad."

She stands in the tower doorway, her smile less tentative and more hopeful now, reminding Bull of nothing so much as a child waiting to be invited to play with a group of other children. "Come on in," Bull says, after a glance at Kata for permission.

Despite his words, Adaar looks first at Kata, then past Bull's shoulder at Taashath before she steps into the tower. She's nearly vibrating with excitement, but she keeps it pretty well in check while Bull makes introductions.

When that's done, there's a brief silence, Adaar too busy looking at the dragons to hold up her end of the conversation. Bull smoothes out a smile and raises the book a little way into the air to get her attention. "You can join us if you don't have Inquisitorial stuff to do."

"I got back earlier than anyone expected," Adaar says. "So I can hide out here for a little while." She gives the dragons a nod and a smile. "I was in kind of a hurry so I could get back to see how you were doing."

"A lot better," Bull says. Kata backs him up with a soft purr, and Adaar is instantly charmed.

"You've got to be even happier about that than we are," Adaar says. "Thinking about how soon until you can get out of here and go home?"

Kata's purr stops instantly, along with Bull's heart. Taashath curls in tighter around him.

Adaar blinks, then says hastily, "That wasn't a hint, please stay as long as you want, I know you've still got a ways to go before you're totally healed."

Taashath whistles mournfully.

"You'll get there, though," Adaar says, misinterpreting the sound. "I mean, look how far you've already come, and if there's anything you need that the Inquisition can provide, I'll make sure you have it."

Kata growls, a low sound she cuts off almost as soon as it starts.

Taken aback, Adaar looks from Taashath to Kata to Bull. "Did I say something wrong? If so, I apologize."

Her obvious distress finally snaps Bull out of his paralysis. "It's fine, Boss," he says with a laugh he doesn't feel. "They're shedding, so it's not been a great week." He sets down the book so he can stroke Taashath's side with one hand and Kata's cheek with the other. "But it'll pass, and you'll be back to normal before you know it."

Kata nudges at his cheek as Taashath curls even tighter around him.

"You will," he says more firmly. "And then you'll be able to go home."

He's been so careful to avoid thinking about that, but now Adaar has slapped him in the face with it, even if unintentionally, and he has to think about it. How much longer does he have? A few weeks? A month? Part of him hopes for years, but that's selfish, and he knows it. If they're here for years, then it will be because the red templars hurt them so badly they can't heal, and he's not enough of an asshole to wish that on them.

Adaar is still looking back and forth between the three of them, not entirely convinced by his explanation, so Bull adds cheerfully to the dragons, "I was talking about this yesterday, remember? Both of you need to get out of this room and get some exercise."

"Exercise where?" Adaar asks. "I think the courtyard is too small."

And also too full of people who would either alarm Kata and Taashath or be alarmed by them, not to mention some who would probably manage both.

"The gate is pretty close," Bull says, like he's actually thought about this and isn't making it all up on the spot. "If we're quick, we can get out of Skyhold, and then we've got all the space we want."

"True," Adaar says.

By her expression, Bull isn't sure she's buying it. In fact, the look Adaar is giving him now looks remarkably like the look Kata gives him on occasion.

Before Adaar can ask questions, Bull opens the book and says with more of that cheer he doesn't feel, "Now. Where were we?"

###

The three of them go out the next day, Bull determined to see Kata and Taashath get the exercise they need to fly again. He doesn't want them to leave, but that doesn't change anything. They need to heal, and he'll do everything in his power to make that happen.

They don't go very far on that first day, and neither dragon tries to fly. Just walking a mile wears them both out and leaves them sleepy for the rest of the day. Combined with the last of the shedding, it makes for a pair of very irritable dragons, but at least they don't snap at anyone.

The shedding, at least, is finished only a few days after Adaar returns, and Bull is pleased to see that some of the scars left by the red templars have faded noticeably. The new scales gleam, shining in a dozen shades of brown and gold, no longer dull and dusty-looking. Whenever he doesn't pay attention to what he's doing, Bull finds himself stroking whichever dragon is closest, watching the way the scales change color as the light shifts over them. Neither Kata nor Taashath seems to mind.

With the shedding done, the three of them spend more and more time outside Skyhold. The dragons' first flights are more like very long leaps, wings straining to carry them only a few dozen feet and their landings awkward more often than not. It irritates both dragons, and Bull is reminded more than once of cats who've fallen off a railing or done something equally graceless. He doesn't laugh, but only because he knows the frustration of being unable to do something that used to come naturally.

It becomes their routine: if the sun is out to keep the air warm, they wander the mountains around Skyhold. If the weather is too cold, they stay in the tower, Bull reading aloud to pass the time. The library has a surprisingly extensive collection of novels--he suspects Adaar of buying every one she finds in order to please Cassandra--so he doesn't have to worry about running out of options.

Which is just as well, since there are more than a few of the library's novels that he's not prepared to read aloud to either Kata or Taashath. Those books are entertaining, certainly, but Bull has enough trouble keeping his body in check these days. Adding _The Randy Dowager's_ latest recommendation into the mix would be a very bad idea.

But since thinking about running out of books leads too directly to thoughts of Kata and Taashath leaving, Bull mostly avoids letting his mind wander in that direction. When he can't help it, he reminds himself that when they leave, it will mean they've recovered from everything the red templars did to them, and Bull wants that even more than he wants them to stay.

Regular exercise seems to help. Their flights get longer and higher, both dragons straining every day for more distance and more height. Bull watches and envies them the way he's never envied anyone. What would it be like to fly? Standing on top of Skyhold's tallest tower can give him a hint but not the reality.

Kata is the first to fly so high she almost disappears against the sky, Taashath following behind without quite matching her height. Watching them climb higher and higher, anxiety coils in the pit of Bull's stomach. If they can fly so high, then they've recovered enough to leave. They could leave now, simply fly away to somewhere warmer and more hospitable, leaving him standing here waiting in vain for them to come back.

And even if they come back today, he can't deny anymore that it's time for them to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

The trip from Skyhold to the Wastes is too short, even with Adaar and Fréderic to keep him company. All three of them are torn between pleasure at seeing Kata and Taashath whole, and regret at never again seeing them at all. Regret they all three do their best to hide by talking as cheerfully as they can when either dragon is nearby, but both dragons fly ahead more often than not. It makes for a very quiet trip.

Kata and Taashath grow more excited the closer they get to the Wastes, racing ahead and then flying back, only to race ahead again. By the time the party reaches Griffon Wing Keep, the dragons are so obviously happy that Bull doesn't have to fake a smile when he looks at them. They're healthy and happy, and he'll move past this loss the way he's moved past others before. At least these friends are alive and well, even if he won't see them again.

By the time they get to Griffon Wing Keep, he's well prepared to be stoic and philosophical. From here, Kata and Taashath will continue on into the Wastes, while Bull, Adaar, and Fréderic will return to Skyhold. He gets a little extra time by virtue of their late-afternoon arrival, but that's it.

Bull reminds himself of that about four dozen times during the sleepless night that follows. He spends it reading aloud, propped against Taashath and with Kata's head in his lap. They're not done with the book by the time the sky turns the washed out blue of a desert dawn, but they've just finished a chapter, so Bull closes the book with a sigh.

"Out of time," he says, giving Kata's head a last scratch between the horns. "Too bad we didn't get to finish. I guess you'll just have to write your own ending for it, huh?"

She blows smoke into his face and crosses her eyes at him, which makes him laugh. "I'm sure you'll think of something," he says. "Maybe add in a dragon or two, that will make it better."

Taashath laughs that growly dragon laugh that Bull loves.

That he won't ever get to hear again.

Fuck, he needs to stop focusing on that. "All right," he says, pushing Kata's head from his lap as gently as he can. "You've still got a long way to go, so you'd better get started."

She whistles inquisitively, that rising inflection of a question, but for once, he has no idea what the question might be.

"Sorry," he says. "I don't understand."

Another whistle, and when he shakes his head in confusion, she clicks her teeth irritably at him. Or maybe at Taashath, who unfolds himself and stands as if in response, abandoning his place as Bull's backrest.

Except rather than join Kata, Taashath takes Bull's wrist between his teeth and pulls, as carefully as he did when he invited Bull into the tower.

"I can't come with you," Bull says, then adds, trying to joke, "I've got to keep Adaar safe so she can save the world."

Kata clicks her teeth at him again, and Taashath looks up with the saddest, most pathetic expression Bull has ever seen on any creature, ever. There are a lot of things Bull could resist, but that's not one of them.

"All right," he says, aware that he's giving in embarrassingly fast. He covers for it by adding, "But just two more days, that's it."

Taashath head-butts him in the ribs so hard he nearly falls over, and Kata purrs, looking as smug as a cat.

###

He leaves Fréderic and Adaar at Griffon Wing Keep and continues north. Kata and Taashath lead the way, one of them always flying ahead while the other walks beside him to keep him company. So long as he doesn't count how much time he has left with them, it's nearly perfect.

The border between the Western Approach and the Hissing Wastes is poorly defined at best--one mile of rocky desert looks much the same as any other to Bull--but he thinks they've crossed into the Wastes proper by mid-morning of the second day. Certainly Kata and Taashath are more excited than ever as they guide him up a series of rocky hills that would seem like mountains to anyone who hadn't seen the Frostbacks.

It's just before noon when Bull rounds a boulder only to stop dead. In front of him is a tiny green valley, maybe a hundred feet across, fed by a spring and shaded by the stone cliffs that surround it on three sides.

Taashath whistles sharply and lunges into the air, heading straight for Kata where she glides above them. Bull stares after him until he disappears against the sun, and then he's left alone except for whatever small animals and insects make this oasis their home.

Curious, and with a certain suspicion teasing at the back of his mind, Bull leaves his pack in the shade and goes exploring. As small as the valley is, it doesn't take him long to find the cave, and when he does, it's exactly what he was expecting. The space is large enough to comfortably hold two small dragons, and a handful of golden scales wink at him from the sand. He stands in the cave mouth and looks around for a long while, then goes back outside to wait.

Taashath swoops down soon enough, landing right at the edge of the pool. As soon as he sees Bull, he chirps a question.

"It's a beautiful home," Bull says honestly. "Absolutely beautiful."

Taashath preens and launches himself into the air again. This time, he climbs fast, every powerful beat of his wings carrying him higher, until he's almost as high as Kata. He hangs there a moment, and then he flips over and begins to fall.

Bull's heartrate spikes, then evens out as Taashath folds his wings in close to his body in what's obviously a stoop. The tiny speck that is Kata is headed for the ground too, and growing rapidly larger. Her pose matches his, stretched out in a long dive like she'll strike prey at the end. The sun makes their scales glitter, and Bull's heartrate picks up again for an entirely different reason.

Taashath reaches the ground first, pulling up to land lightly on an outcropping of rock that's almost too small for all four of his feet. His posture is self-satisfied, and Bull knows he's pleased with himself for hitting a target he would have missed a few weeks ago.

Kata's landing is more dramatic. She hits the ground hard on purpose, feet slamming down and body braced for the impact, fanning her wings just enough to keep the fall from hurting her. Twenty feet away, the ground trembles under Bull's feet, a vibration that travels through his boots and up his body.

She's barely touched down before she's rearing back on her hind legs, wings now spread wide in a threat display as she roars. The sound echoes off the rocks around them, and when she roars again, it's into the perfect silence that only the presence of a large predator can create.

Her front feet thump down onto the ground, spraying sand everywhere, and she spins toward Taashath. Neck stretched out, she roars at him this time, and he roars back, claws digging into the rock to maintain his balance as he matches her posture.

Watching them, Bull can't breathe, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it everywhere. He can feel other hard things, too, like his cock, all that power and strength shocking his whole body. They've been weak so long, he'd half forgotten they wouldn't be forever.

Kata whips around, her neck stretching toward Bull now, and roars again. A blast of hot air washes over him, hotter even than the desert air shimmering around them, and sparks dance in the back of her throat.

Without thinking, Bull sucks in a deep breath and roars back, the bellow of a charging reaver. He feels like that right now, battle-mad, everything sharp and real and alive in a way it rarely is outside of a fight.

His roar is insignificant next to hers or Taashath's, but it seems to please her anyway, her pupils widening despite the bright sunlight, and Bull is falling without moving, unable to look away. Unwilling to look away. Wanting to fall, to keep falling into her gaze, never mind the consequences and the unforgiving ground at the end.

Taashath roars again, and Kata turns her head to look at him just as he pounces on her. She doesn't try to get out of the way, and the blow sends them tumbling across the ground together, snapping and snarling in a way that would alarm Bull if he couldn't see that they aren't actually hurting each other. Teeth and claws slide harmlessly off scales they could stab through, and seemingly wild blows somehow never come close to wings or eyes.

Bull's cock is completely hard, and he clenches his hands into fists to keep from rubbing it through his trousers. If he had any hope of surviving the experience, he would throw himself into their mock fight. He's tempted to try it anyway, to rely on the fact that they've always been conscious of how easily they could crush him. The only thing holding him back is that he doesn't want to ruin their fun by forcing them to be more careful than they otherwise would have to be.

 The dragon tangle rolls over again, putting Kata on top, Taashath on his back beneath her. One clawed hand around Taashath's neck just under his jaw, Kata looks at Bull and roars a challenge.

Fuck it. He can't even be bothered to worry whether they'll notice he's hard.

His answering roar is almost lost under hers. Ears ringing, throat already scraped raw, he charges, chin tucked so the thick base of his horns will protect his head when he connects.

She doesn't let him get that far. Her head swings away and then back, hitting him solidly in the ribs and almost knocking him down. He stumbles a few steps and recovers, turning on his heel to face her, hands up like he's in a fistfight. Most of his tactics for fighting dragons involve armor and his axe, neither of which he has right now. That should make this interesting.

Bull grins widely and goes in swinging.

It's not quite chaos--that he doesn't lose any limbs is proof enough--but it is rough. Teeth snap and claws swipe and it turns out that punching a dragon hurts his fist almost as much as it hurts the dragon. After the first one, Bull pulls his punches for his own sake, not interested in breaking his hand.

Other than that, he doesn't think much. He's deliberately skirting the edge of a reaver's bloodlust, not quite lost to it but not pushing it away, either. It makes his skin tingle and his cock ache, and it turns the pain into a goad to be faster and better. His skin gets scratched by their claws and by the rough edges of rocks, sometimes deep enough to bleed, but the feel of his own blood dripping down his chest only makes him want more.

The fight can't last forever, and it slows as they all get tired, becoming a shoving match more than anything. In a straight-up test of strength, Bull doesn't stand a chance against a dragon, even a small one, but that doesn't stop him from trying.

Kata wins in the end, at least by the traditional definition of winning. By his own personal definition, Bull doesn't think he lost. There's a bit of blood in his mouth, and he can smell sand and smoke and his own sweat. Kata's teeth are around one of his horns, pinning his head to the ground, and his legs are under Taashath's chest, which in turn is pinned by Kata's forelegs.

Six inches higher, and Taashath's chest would be pressed against Bull's cock. While Bull is mostly glad to avoid either of them discovering that he's hard, his imagination is only too happy to contemplate what it would feel like. Taashath is hot even through Bull's trousers. What would it feel like to rut against those warm scales?

Bull pushes the thought away and reaches up to touch Kata's jaw. "You win," he says between gasps for air. "I yield."

She gives her growling laugh and lets go of him, sliding off Taashath in an ungainly sprawl of legs and wings. Bull half expects Taashath to stay flat on the ground, and he definitely doesn't expect him to scramble up to his feet the moment he can. Kata seems to have been expecting it, though: she sidles up close to Taashath, her tail wrapping around his.

For about two breaths, Bull thinks the gesture is perfectly innocent, the dragon equivalent to putting an arm around a friend's shoulders after a good fight. Still breathing hard, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, intending to get out from under them, barely thinking more than he was during the fight itself.

Halfway to sitting, his angle of view changes. He can see all the way down Taashath's body to where the dragons' tails and hind legs are tangled together, and Bull realizes exactly how not-innocent that gesture is.

Whatever else _De Dracones_ got wrong, it had this part exactly right: there are two cocks pushing their way out from a gap between Taashath's scales, growing longer and thicker as Bull watches. By the time they stop growing, both are a little longer than his forearm and almost as thick as his wrist, every inch covered in spikes. All of it glistens wetly, and Bull has never wanted to be fucked so badly in his entire life.

There's an awkward shuffle of legs and tails, then one of Taashath's cocks is sliding into Kata. Mesmerized, Bull watches it disappear, and watches the ripple of Kata's muscles as she pushes back to meet it. She's making a noise he hasn't heard before--both of them are--a high, breathy whistle just at the limit of his hearing that sounds nothing like a moan but affects him as if it did.

Impossible to think he's here by accident, that they've gotten carried away and forgotten about him. Knowing that doesn't tell him what they expect from him, though, or even what he's allowed to do. Is he supposed to just watch? He hasn't been this uncertain since the first time he visited the tamassrans.

Kata noses at his cheek and his horns, and he reaches up instinctively to stroke her neck. He's gotten used to touching them, to the warm satin-smoothness of their scales, but this is nothing like petting them idly while reading. Not when he can hear the wet sound of Taashath fucking her and feel her move with each thrust.

Taashath's cheek rubs against his shoulder, pushing him sideways until Kata pushes back. Pinned between the two of them, he closes his eye and wraps his arms around their necks as hard as he dares, three sets of horns clattering against each other. Before now, Bull never really got anything out of having his horns touched, but every sharp tap of Kata's and Taashath's horns runs straight to his cock.

"Fuck," he mutters, pressing his face first into one scaled neck and then the other. "I want to watch, but I want you to fuck me, too. Been thinking about it for so long, about what that would feel like." He tightens his arm around Kata's neck and turns his face into her. "Just wish there was a way you could fuck me, too, so you could both fuck me, fuck me 'til I can't walk and then fuck me some more."

Their heads push harder against him, scales probably leaving marks on his face and neck.

With his mouth still against Kata's neck, he says hoarsely, "Let me touch you, let me fuck you with him." He turns his face into Taashath's cheek, adds, "Please, I want to feel your cock while you fuck her."

Scales scrape over his skin as their heads rub against him. Most of the shallower scratches had stopped bleeding, but some of them re-open now, adding to the blood still seeping from the deeper cuts. The ache tightens his nipples and the muscles in his thighs, pushes his hips up to thrust his cock against nothing.

Taashath's head moves away and up to rest on top of Kata's, his chin rubbing between her horns. It puts the full weight of both their heads on Bull's shoulder for a moment, heavy enough to pin him in place, and he wants that too, wants to be pinned down and fucked with his skin burning from a dozen cuts.

Then the weight is gone, Kata stretching out her neck to the side with Taashath still rubbing at the top of her head. No longer caught between them, Bull makes short work of his boots and trousers, throwing them to one side and what he hopes is a safe enough distance to keep them clean. He has to hope, because he can't be bothered to check.

Kata and Taashath have shifted their front legs enough that he has room to half crawl, half slide along the ground under them. He pauses once to touch the paler scales of their bellies, a hand on each of them to feel the muscles clench as they move, before he continues down to where he can watch Taashath's cock sliding in and out.

After a long moment, he tears his gaze away and looks at Taashath's other cock, hanging almost directly above his head. Both cocks are a light tan color, a little paler than the scales around them and tinged faintly with pink. They're also huge compared to most of the things Bull has been fucked with over the years, and while he's taken bigger, it's always been after first taking something smaller. Getting fucked with nothing but that would hurt in a way even a reaver wouldn't like.

For now, he doesn't worry about it. He'd much rather wrap his hands around the cock not currently fucking Kata and let it slide between his palms and fingers. The spikes give way with a slight resistance, more pronounced than the bumps on the wooden cock he's fucked himself with so often but not painful. Spikes and cock are made slick by something slightly thicker than oil that begins to run down Bull's arms on almost his first stroke, a liquid he can see dripping down Kata's legs as Taashath fucks her. It's warm on Bull's tongue, the taste unpleasantly sharp and metallic, a detail the writer of _De Dracones_ had failed to mention.

The taste doesn't stop Bull from putting his mouth over the tip of Taashath's cock, stretching his lips wide to take as much of it as he can. He manages enough for the spikes to rub over his tongue, liquid smearing over his face and trickling down his throat. Eye closed, he works one cock with his mouth and hands, and listens to the other fucking Kata.

When his jaw starts to ache, he explores with fingers and tongue. There's no slit at the tip to play with, just a groove that runs the whole length of the shaft, the only place with no spikes. Intrigued, Bull traces it lightly with a fingertip, and when that gets no response, with a fingernail. On each stroke, he presses a little harder, until Taashath shudders and makes that whistling noise Bull is already learning to recognize.

Bull scrapes his fingernail down the groove again, his tongue following right behind. At the tip, he stretches his jaw wide so the next thrust pushes Taashath's cock a little way into his mouth, spikes dragging against his lips and tongue. He lets the first few inches of Taashath's cock fuck his mouth over and over, spilling more of that slippery liquid down his neck and chest with every stroke.

He's nearly covered in it by the time the ache in his jaw and neck forces him to stop, and he runs his hand through it absently as he tries to stop panting. Less than a foot away, Taashath's other cock fucks Kata in long thrusts that pick up speed as Bull watches, and Bull suspects Taashath was holding back to avoid hurting him. Now he's pounding into Kata, her hind claws digging into the sand to keep her in place.

Something near the base of Kata's tail catches Bull's attention, something he can't see well enough to identify. Both dragons are moving constantly, and whatever it is, it's almost completely obscured by Taashath's cock. All Bull can see are flashes in a slightly paler shade of tan than the cock that's simultaneously hiding it and distracting him.

Watching Kata and Taashath fuck also doesn't make it easy for Bull to get his breath back. He wants to watch, and he wants to be the one getting fucked, and he wants to be the one doing the fucking, and he can't do all three at once.

As slippery as his hand is, though, he can at least have two out of three. With a little maneuvering, he finds a position where he can see Taashath's cock pounding into Kata and fuck himself at the same time. Two fingers slide in easily, and he adds another, stroking his own cock with his free hand as he fucks himself open.

Taashath bellows and pushes in deep, grinding against Kata as she grinds back into him. Bull squeezes his cock and fucks himself harder, and he knows it wouldn't do anything for Kata, but he wants to be between them anyway, fucking her while Taashath fucks him.

With a growling sigh, Taashath pulls out, and now the something that Bull had only been able to glimpse while they were fucking is visible. _Two_ somethings, it turns out: at the base of Kata's tail are two cocks, paler and smaller than Taashath's but very definitely erect. The dimensions are different than Bull is used to, neither of them longer than his smallest finger but both almost as thick around as his own cock.

He stops fucking himself so he can get up on his knees for a better look. Unlike Taashath's cocks, Kata's are almost smooth, without any spikes, but she pushes into Bull's hand when he strokes one lightly. He strokes the other cock more firmly and smiles when she makes a whistling hiss.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks, surprised at how normal his voice sounds. A little hoarse, a lot aroused, but not nearly as dazed as he feels.

Kata blinks at him over her shoulder, head tilted in question.

"Like this." He touches the slitted gap between her scales, just in front of her cocks, rubbing his fingers in the slippery mess Taashath left behind. It smells like a blacksmith's forge, like fire and hot metal, a smell that gets stronger as a little of it runs down his arm. "I can fuck you like this."

Her growling purr rumbles through him in what he's pretty sure is a yes. He's even more sure when he scrambles to his feet and she sweeps her tail to one side so he can step up behind her. Her tail wraps around his chest, scales catching on a few of the scrapes, and Bull takes a moment to just breathe.

Sure as he is that Kata is all right with this, Bull starts carefully, fingers tucked together to make his hand as small as possible. Taashath's cock is huge for a cock, but it's still not as large as Bull's hand. That slippery liquid is everywhere, though, and Bull's fingers slide easily into Kata.

He stops when he meets the first hint of resistance, but she has other ideas. All she needs is a half step back to fuck herself on his hand, taking his arm halfway to the elbow.

The heat is shocking. Bull has always known the dragons' bodies were warm, but now he realizes how much their scales shielded that warmth. With his hand inside her, he can feel how hot she is, hot as the magical stones that heated their tower.

She makes an irritated noise, pulling herself off and then pushing back onto his hand, and Bull laughs breathlessly.

"Right," he says. "Faster. Got it." Still, he strokes her flank with his free hand first, pressing hard enough that the scales flex and glitter in the sun.

The words slip out, thoughtless and fervent. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

She purrs at him, but it rises into a whine, clearly pleading.

"I know," he says, because he does. He spreads his fingers inside her as much as he can, letting the tightness of her body force them back together as he pulls out. "I know, I promise, I'm not going to tease you."

His hand slides in just as easily the second time, and now he doesn't stop. He gives her more and more, until she's taken his arm to the elbow, and when he pulls out, he keeps his hand a little open so his knuckles drag over sensitive skin. Her claws dig into the ground, and her tail squeezes briefly around his chest, forcing the air from his lungs in a harsh breath, before she deliberately relaxes her hold. Her claws keep carving up the ground, though.

All the slickness inside her is what Taashath left behind--her body makes none of its own--and Bull is careful at first, waiting for it to become sticky or be absorbed by their skin. When it doesn't do either, he starts to fuck her faster, pushing through the initial tightness of her slit into the wet heat inside her in long, hard strokes. Around the bulk of her body, Bull can just make out her head, flat to the ground and moving in quick little jerks to drag the underside of her jaw against any convenient rock.

Taashath's chin rubs over Bull's head between his horns, rougher than usual, and Bull reaches up to stroke his neck. All those fantasies of dragons lacked a hundred details he now gets to learn, from the weight of Taashath's head to the way Kata's tail strokes restlessly over his chest, scales scraping over his nipples.

The movement of her tail also drags one of her cocks over his arm. At first, Bull thinks it's an accident, but she does it again, and he realizes it's a request. While the fact that she has two cocks is new, Bull is far from inexperienced with cocks in general. If he hadn't been distracted by everything else, he wouldn't have needed a reminder.

It takes him a moment to find a way to fuck her and stroke one of her cocks at the same time, but he knows the instant he gets it right: her tail tightens fiercely around him again, and she pushes her chin against a rock hard enough to drag it out of the sand. Taashath is leaning against his back, one front claw flexing on his shoulder, adding his weight to the pressure of Kata's tail. Bull keeps going despite the fact that he can't breathe, his own cock hard and leaking, and if he doesn't pass out, he might come like this.

Her tail unwinds, pushing Taashath half off Bull to unwrap itself completely, and Bull sucks in a deep breath, half relieved and half disappointed. Taashath's weight presses down on him again almost immediately, and Bull thinks that Kata's tail is now wrapped around both of them, holding them tight while still letting him breathe. It changes the angle of their bodies, pushing Taashath's cock--the one that's still hard--up against the small of Bull's back.

He can't feel the spines very well, but he can definitely feel the wetness already beginning to trickle down his ass. The slickness makes it easy for Taashath to rub against him, the force pushing Bull against Kata's flank. If he had a hand free, he could jerk himself off like that, rub against her like Taashath is rubbing against him.

Since freeing a hand would require him to either stop fucking her or let go of her cock, and he doesn't want to do either, he braces his feet against Taashath's weight and fucks her as hard as he can. He has to strain to reach her cock now, but it's worth it. Her cock is smooth in his fist, and every time he twists his wrist, her hind claws draw jagged lines in the sand.

A shudder runs the whole length of Kata's body, and muscles contract around Bull's arm as she roars. It's one long contraction rather than a series of them, Bull's arm held tight where it's buried inside her, so tight he can feel his pulse beating under the skin. He keeps his other hand moving, twisting and stroking her cock until she sighs and relaxes. She sighs again, pleased, when he lets go of her cock and strokes her tail instead.

But when he starts to pull his arm out, she makes a whistling noise that's just as pleading as the one she made earlier. Bull has a brief moment of confusion, then Taashath's cock rubs against his back, and he understands.

Reaching Kata's other cock is awkward, his arms getting in each other's way as soon as he starts to fuck her again, but just as he's thinking about trying a different angle, her front claws bury themselves in the sand and she roars, louder this time. Bull's arm is caught again, squeezed tight in another contraction that lasts even longer than the first one. His hips move involuntarily, trying unsuccessfully to find something to rub his cock against.

Taashath shifts his weight, his claws digging in to Bull's shoulder as he rears back and then leans in again. More of his weight is on Bull now, and his cock has slipped down to the gap between Bull's thighs, pushing in hard enough to spread the cheeks of Bull's ass apart. The soft spikes on the shaft rub over his hole, so much of a tease that it's nearly torture.

Kata relaxes, and Bull withdraws his arm as carefully as he can, stroking her flank with a shaking hand. She's shaking, too, and as soon as he's pulled out, she folds her legs to half sit, half lie on the ground.

It throws off his balance, and with Taashath's weight on him, Bull stumbles into Kata and winds up braced against her hip. He's laughing, but he's also desperate, and when Taashath settles on top of him again, Bull reaches back to guide his cock. That's all he wants at this point, Taashath fucking him while he holds on to Kata.

The head of Taashath's cock is blunt, only slightly rounded, something Bull hadn't really noticed when he was sucking it and distracted by the spikes. He notices it now as Taashath fucks him, and his cock feels at least as large as the largest of Bull's toys. It's huge, as close to too much as Bull's ever taken, and he can feel the spikes bending as Taashath pushes deeper, feel them unfolding inside him. He concentrates on breathing, on getting his body to accept inch after inch of Taashath's cock, because every time he thinks he must have taken it all, it turns out there's still more to take. Taashath doesn't rush, but he doesn't stop, either, just keeps up that steady, inexorable pressure until Bull forgets even breathing in favor of opening himself up.

He's not sure if he actually takes it all or if Taashath eventually stops for fear of hurting him. Either way, he gets a long moment to remember what breathing is like, to adjust as best he can to Taashath's cock pinning him against Kata. As he gets air back into his lungs, he has to wonder if this is what other people feel when he fucks them.

Face shoved hard into Kata's scales, he grins around his next gasping breath. No wonder so many of them show up in his bed again.

When Bull is no longer worried that the smallest movement will tip all of this over into too much, he reaches up, hand searching for Taashath's neck. Whether Taashath understands what he wants or was simply waiting for the first opportunity, his chin rubs over the top of Bull's head, pressing down hard.

"Yeah," Bull mumbles into Kata's scales, barely aware he's talking aloud, "fuck me, fuck me now, pl-"

The rest of the word gets lost in a groan, because it turns out he hasn't taken all of Taashath's cock yet, and it's easier now that his body has adjusted, but that's not the same as easy. At least there isn't too much more, and Bull gets another pause for breath when Taashath really is as deep as he can get, scales smooth against Bull's back and ass and thighs.

Bull doesn't need more than a couple breaths this time. "Come _on_ ," he says again. "Fuck me."

Taashath pulls most of the way out, and pushes back in, faster but not fast enough.

"Faster," Bull grates out. "Fuck me!"

The next stroke gives him his first hint of exactly what a dragon's strength can mean here. Taashath slams into him hard enough to knock him forward into Kata despite the way Bull had braced his feet. His shoulder aches under Taashath's claws, an ache that feels every bit as good as Kata's scales rubbing against his cock.

"Is that...the best...you can do?" he asks between breaths, grinning.

Taashath snorts. Bull smells a hint of smoke before smell stops being his primary concern as Taashath proves exactly how much better he can do.

Bull gets what he asked for--what he wants--Taashath fucking him fast and hard, no time to think or breathe or brace himself. Every stroke shoves him into Kata, and the spikes on Taashath's cock mean Bull is just as aware of every inch now as he was on the first thrust, even if he's no longer wondering whether it's too much. Because it's not too much, it's exactly right, and Kata breathing under him makes it perfect.

He's held between the two of them, their scales warm all around him, Taashath's cock driving into him and his own cock rubbing against Kata's side. All he can do is hang on: to Kata, to Taashath, to his self-control. When Taashath comes, Bull can feel it, as hot inside him as Kata's body was when he was fucking her, and that's all it takes to finish him off, to make him breathless, mindless, the world nothing but the heat and weight of their bodies as he shakes between them.

By the time he's willing to remember that there's other things in the world besides them, Taashath is pulling out and easing off him. With nothing to hold him up, Bull slides to the ground to lie panting, facedown, in the wet sand.

Something nudges his ribs gently, and Bull reaches blindly to pat whatever it is. By the shape and direction, it's Taashath's nose, and the worried hum that vibrates through his chest confirms it. Which means that the something nudging at the top of his head is probably Kata.

If there are words for what he's feeling right now, Bull can't think of them. Easier to just flop over onto his back so they can see his smile. He's sticky and sore in places he's rarely been either, too tired to care if they spend the night right here on the sand, and this day will be absolutely perfect as soon as they stop worrying about him.

Kata noses at his cheek and begins to purr. A moment later, Taashath's weight settles along Bull's side, his purr joining in. Bull throws his arm around Kata's neck, tucks himself against Taashath's side, and thinks, sleepy and amused, that it really is too bad he can't purr back.

He very carefully doesn't think about tomorrow, about the lonely walk back to Griffon Wing Keep and the only slightly less lonely trip back to Skyhold. At least once he's back with the Chargers, he can stay too busy to miss anyone too much.

When the mess of sand and come on his skin gets to be too much, he washes off in the spring, careful to muddy the water as little as possible. The sun is nearly down by the time he's finished, the temperature starting to drop, and he hurries to join Kata and Taashath in their cave. He's plenty warm in there, his back propped against Taashath's side and Kata's head in his lap.

That makes it all the more unpleasant to get up the next morning, but he's taken as much time as he can. He promised Adaar he would be back in four days, and he won't leave her to worry that something has happened to him.

"I have to go," he says in response to Taashath's quiet whistle. "I want to stay, but I can't."

Kata blinks at him, a slow blink that says she understands, and Taashath sighs so hugely that it blows sand over Bull's boots.

Bull smiles sadly. "Yeah, that's about how I feel, too."

On impulse, he digs through his pack and pulls out the book he's been reading to them, the one they still haven't finished. It's already wrapped for travel and well protected against anything short of being dropped into the spring. Sitting in the back of a dry desert cave won't hurt it, especially a cave that's home to two dragons.

"Maybe I'll be able to come back someday," he says, showing them what he has. "So we can finish it."

There's a small niche in the back of the cave, just large enough for him to set the book inside, and when he turns around, Kata has nudged a shed scale almost to his boots. The scale is whole and undamaged, the surface smooth and the edges sharp against his fingers.

He tucks it into his pack without saying anything, then all that's left is to touch each dragon on the head one last time before he goes.

###

He arrives back at Griffon Wing Keep the following afternoon: tired, covered in sand, and still not quite as reconciled as he wants to be to leaving Kata and Taashath behind. Adaar greets him at the gate with a quick, hard hug, and Bull has to wonder how much she suspects.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you a bath and some food."

Left to his own devices, he would skip both and go straight to bed, but she doesn't ask, just links their arms together and steers him through the keep.

They're almost to the top when she says, "While you were gone, I got to thinking."

"Oh?" he says, curious despite himself. Adaar isn't one for talking just to fill a silence.

"After we beat Corypheus, there'll be cleanup to do."

He smiles at her casual assumption that of course she'll win, but all he says is, "I know. Lots of asses left to kick."

"Yeah," she says, sounding pleased at the prospect before she sobers.

Or rather, mostly sobers. There's tension in her body that makes Bull nervous, and it doesn't reassure him at all when she slants a look at him from the corner of one eye as she says, "This part of the world seems to have more than its share of asses that will need kicking."

"Does seem like it," Bull agrees cautiously. Adamant isn't that far away, after all.

She nods like he's said something profound. "So I'll probably need someone here at Griffon Wing almost all the time."

"Like Rylen?" Bull asks, still cautious. Has something happened to him?

"He's a good soldier," Adaar says dismissively, "but I'll need someone here who doesn't think like a soldier. The people who have those asses that need kicking, they sure won't be soldiers like Rylen."

Oh.

A laugh forms in Bull's chest, light and happy, but he keeps his face as sober as hers. "That's true. Got anyone in mind for the job?"

"A couple people," she says. "I want someone I know I can trust. Someone I've fought with."

"Huh," he says, because it's all he can say and hold in the laugh that's fighting to get free.

"Whoever it is, they need to be someone who knows how to lead," Adaar says. She waves a hand with an airiness Bull doesn't believe in the least. "Maybe even you, if you think you'd be interested."

Bull looks out over the desert, at a pair of birds drifting high in the sky to the north. Or maybe they're not birds. He hasn't seen many birds that glitter in the sun.

"Yeah," he says, watching the birds wheel around to head north. "Now you mention it, that does sound like something I could do."


End file.
